


Lay Me Down

by JackShirogane



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Pining, Regret, Touch-Starved, Touching, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackShirogane/pseuds/JackShirogane
Summary: "And it's hard, the days just seem so darkThe moon, and the stars are nothing without youYour touch, your skin, where do I begin?No words can explain the way I'm missing you"It's been six years, but Artemis Entreri is still tormented by the memory of the opportunistic drow mercenary that he met in Menzoberranzan. One night his repressed feelings come to a head as he is forced to come to terms with his emotions, whether he likes it or not.Takes place at the beginning of The Silent Blade.
Relationships: Jarlaxle Baenre & Artemis Entreri
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Lay Me Down

Artemis Entreri did not like Calimport. He never had; it was his home, but that’s all it was. It was not a place he enjoyed, but he was always drawn back because it was a place he understood, where everything made sense. Every time he came back he was reminded how terrible a place it was at its rotten core, with the reek of death permeating every corner of the city and the hedonism so loud that it was hard to sleep at night. It made him wish he could handle some sort of substance to numb the hatred. The inn he was resting in at that moment was so full of whores and desperate men that it irked him at a primal level.

He watched a nearly-dead rat twich in the trap in the corner. “You lucky thing,” he said with a compassion he was not known for. “Not even a rat deserves this place.” He slipped off his shirt and dropped his belt to the ground, and landed ungracefully on the creaky bed. He looked at his jeweled dagger, the only thing he considered a true companion. 

His muscles ached from the constant tension that Calimport forced upon him, even more so than any other place he had been. Even Menzoberranzan had been easier on his body, and he could barely work his way around the infravision he had been given. He snorted. Menzoberranzan and Calimport were opposites in some twisted way; while Menzoberranzan’s streets seemed orderly and clean at a glance, a despicable chaos bubbled under the surface, a network of cracks that if stepped on would trigger a horrible chain reaction. Calimport looked like it would fall at any moment, but it was more stable than many more notable cities, no matter how perilous the means. 

Entreri’s tense muscles were not tensed of fear, but of reflex. Much of his life had been spent here in a more vulnerable time, trying to claw his way to a spot of security. His vision flashed with a memory of the freezing gutters that he used to sleep in, and he shook it aside promptly. No, anyone with good sense in Calimport feared him. He rubbed at a particularly sore bicep, and noticed that it had broken out in a cold sweat. He ignored it. For the first time in his life, something felt terribly wrong. Nothing made sense here. He wasn’t the same Entreri that had lived here so long ago, but the implications of that thought were too much to bear. If he didn’t understand Calimport, was there one place he would ever understand? Or would he be doomed to roam forever, wondering why he had ever left Calimport in the first place? His head spun with the thought. He didn't realize he had stood up to lean on the wall until his fist collided with it. He hadn’t even clenched it properly or hit at the right angle, and it stung. He hit it again and again until the jagged wall had splotches of blood to match the many other stains. Entreri stared at the wall long and hard, his unblinking eyes seeing double.

“You know what you truly want,” said a voice that sounded just like him.

“Shut up!” he roared as he spun around, his throat protesting already. “You don’t know a thing about me!”

“Of course I do,” the voice said again, though it was now simply echoing in Entreri’s mind. “I’m you.” It chuckled. “And you are me.”

Entreri breathed hard. The noise around him hadn’t even faltered at his outburst. His eyes drifted to his dagger. “Come now,” the voice said again. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Try me,” Entreri growled. For the past six years, he hadn’t cared much for his own fate. He felt he had lived quite enough. Even so, he knew deep down that the voice was right. The truth was, no matter how far Entreri travelled, no matter how many years had passed, when he laid down at night he was tormented by the allure of a slender hand stroking at his cheek. The touch was like poison, so dangerous and intoxicating that even though it was not really there, its effects tugged at him and dulled his sharpened senses. The worst part was that he knew exactly whose touch it was, and that someone was thousands of miles away probably fantasizing about his death. When he woke up alone every morn, an ache filled his body greater than any lingering battle. How ridiculous a notion! That touch could only find him in the inky blackness of Menzoberranzan, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that place, so wretched and wondrous, was more of a home than the dusty betrayal of Calimport ever was. The blackness outside was nearly purer than Menzoberranzan. The smoke blotted out the stars and left a miserable void begging for another sacrifice to wander into its gaping maw.

If only that blackness held what he truly desired, he thought so faintly that it hardly registered. Artemis Entreri never cried. He would rather give his beloved dagger to the poorest beggar on the street and beg to be stabbed with it than even entertain the thought, but there was a shining, stinging moisture in his eyes that persisted as he looked out into the blackness. He imagined the faint blue glow of the stalagmite clock, like a sapphire sunset.

“It is called Narbondel,” a voice said softly in his memories. “It glows blue when the day is approaching its end.”

“We have something similar on the surface,” he heard his past self say.

“Sunset, is it not?” The voice was like a beautiful melody in his ear. Even in his memories, his head leaned closer to the perceived sound. In reality, he was leaning closer to the soft moan of a prostitute in the next room over. His arms rested on the windowsill heavily, and the rank air hardly bothered him, so lost in his own thoughts. 

“Humans need to sleep at night, correct?” the past voice continued. 

“I’d like to watch Narbondel a bit more,” his past self said, the memory fading along with the false comfort. Entreri felt empty without it. His time in Menzoberranzan was miserable, and he had known himself to be running from it, but for a second he wondered if he was really running from the pull of that intoxicating voice and the deadly touch. 

He felt an awful churning in his stomach, and he knew it was time to sleep. He laid down and pulled the ratty sheet over him, his now-pounding head thanking him. His dagger rested comfortably within his reach, as it had to. 

He wasn’t asleep for long when he felt as though he was being watched. He cracked an exhausted eye open, the darkness of the room collecting suspiciously in one corner. He sat up slowly, dagger already in hand. When he poised to throw the figure revealed itself, although it looked to be pure shadow itself. However, this was no shadow, and Entreri knew that all too well. “Jarlaxle,” he breathed. The figure stared back at him, his glowing red eye staring at him gently. Through the darkness he could imagine the other eye covered by the customary eye patch, and his feathered hat swaying in the breeze. “How did you find me,” he eventually forced out, his trembling fingers finally managing to light a candle.

“I didn’t,” said Jarlaxle. He didn’t even squint at the candle. This set Entreri on edge, knowing something was off. He looked at Jarlaxle warily. “Take a listen,” he said softly. Entreri did as he was told. His face scrunched up in annoyance at this game, but soon he understood.

“It’s silent,” Entreri mumbled. Jarlaxle nodded. “I’m… dreaming.” Jarlaxle nodded again. Entreri groaned, a hand on his pounding head. Without even a sound, Jarlaxle slid to his side to sit on the bed and cupped one of Entreri’s cheeks, his thumb sliding across to wipe the tear that Entreri shed. 

“You never left my mind, my dear abbil,” he said in a voice that penetrated the assassin’s walls like a hot knife.

“You can’t even leave well enough alone in my dreams,” he said, though any hint of annoyance was absent. “That’s not what the real Jarlaxle thinks, surely.”

“Who cares,” he said with another comforting stroke. “For now, I am the realest Jarlaxle that you have.” He brought Entreri into an embrace that melted him, one hand wrapped around to the small of his back and the other coaxing him into the crook of his neck. The skin was so soft that Entreri’s eyes closed and all thoughts evaporated from his troubled mind. 

“For now,” he echoed, barely able to form a coherent word. “The real Jarlaxle is…” His words stopped coming and he whimpered uselessly into the hypnotic touch. 

“A long ways away, I know,” cooed Jarlaxle. His voice filled Entreri’s mind and crowded out every worry that dared form. Entreri mewled into Jarlaxle’s shoulder in agreement. 

“How…” Entreri struggled to protest, only a strained whisper escaping his lips.

“Stop talking, abbil,” said Jarlaxle so softly that only Entreri could hear. This Jarlaxle was feeling realer than ever. “I know what you mean to say.” Entreri had no problem keeling to the drow’s will. In the waking world he could never be this delicate, but inside his dreams where not even he could resist his subconscious thought, he was safe in Jarlaxle’s arms. 

“How will you ever see me again,” he assumed. He brought his hand to Entreri’s jawline, so gently tormenting the sensitive skin of his jaw and neck. Entreri was overtaken by a shudder that rolled through his body like an earthquake. He moaned softly into Jarlaxle, confirming his assumption. His knuckles had turned white with how hard he was clinging onto the drow’s tunic. “You have accepted that this is the way you feel,” he said, his silky voice in no way condemning the notion. “You can find a way.” Entreri shook his head, Jarlaxle’s shirt soaked with tears and the saliva that he had been leaking pitifully. Jarlaxle hummed at him and held him ever tighter. “I know you can,” he murmured into Entreri’s ear. 

He pulled the assassin’s face up to look into his eyes. Entreri’s face was in utter disarray, his eyes swollen and looking desperately up at Jarlaxle. “You are Artemis Entreri,” he cooed with a gentle finger resting under Entreri’s chin and a smirk plastered on his face. He shook his head softly. “You are my Artemis Entreri,” he corrected. “You’ve tracked your targets much farther than Menzoberranzan.” His eyes reflected every hope that Entreri had ever hoped. “You can do the same to me.” With that, he stood, leaving Entreri to stumble forward in his absence and hardly catch himself before he toppled over. Entreri’s swollen eyes widened.

“No,” he rasped. “Please don’t leave me, not yet,” he begged, his stomach turning as though he might vomit. “It’s been six years, please,” he sobbed openly. Jarlaxle looked at him, understanding every heartache and regret. “I can’t live like this anymore,” he breathed heavily.

“Then don’t,” said Jarlaxle. “Come find me. I’ll be waiting.” He leaned down and kissed Entreri on the cheek, and as he reached out to stop him, their fingers only brushed before Jarlaxle was gone.

“No,” sobbed Entreri. He sprang up from the bed, but his knees buckled and he hit the ground hard. He realized then that he had woken up, and that his face was soaking wet and painfully throbbing from the impact with the floor. The noise was back and assaulting his senses. It was early in the morning from the dull light streaming through the window, and somehow Entreri felt even worse than when he went to bed. He forced his aching body off the ground and cleaned himself up, before thinking of his options. He couldn’t leave Calimport with all the eyes on him, but somehow, he had to find his way back to Menzoberranzan. As soon as he could, he would find his way back into the arms of Jarlaxle. He had to. Yes, he thought. As soon as he could.


End file.
